


Cultivating Indifference

by LeotheSpaceHeadCase



Category: Star Trek, Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Bulimia, Cardassia, Cardassians, Drug Abuse, Drug Use, Episode: s02e22 The Wire, Gen, Implied/Referenced Drug Use, Memories, Mental Health Issues, Mental Instability, Obsidian Order, Post-Episode: s02e22 The Wire, Repressed Memories, Strong Will, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, mental state, mind
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-12
Updated: 2016-08-12
Packaged: 2018-08-08 08:26:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 717
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7750492
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LeotheSpaceHeadCase/pseuds/LeotheSpaceHeadCase
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>I have a lot going on in life atm, so i wrote this.<br/>An insight into the (perhaps not so) disciplined Cardassian mind of Elim Garak.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Cultivating Indifference

**Author's Note:**

> "I don't want to forget ...  
> ... to regret  
> ... to remember all the time  
> ... everything  
> ... all these years" - 'Elias' by Wolfsheim

Everything was a skill, Tain had said, that could be in-born or learnt. Either way, it had to be practised, homed until it came as natural as breathing but that even then that needed constant cultivation lest one would get complacent. 

Elim always had a air of someone who was unfeeling. He could remember when he was a little boy, Mila, in tears whilst watching a news broadcast, turning to him and asking 'Do you have feelings?'. Of course he did, they were just hard to understand and easy to push aside, expect the most selfish ones. It was a trait that Tain had praised him for and one he had grown to rely upon. His 'sense of professionalism' as he called it had served him well - he had tortured, murdered and even convinced himself that he got a twisted pleasure from doing so. He had survived longer than many of his colleagues as he had no qualms about double-crossing them, anything to serve Cardassia and himself. Nothing else was important. 

Only now, on Deep Space Nine, Cardassia did not want his service. He was determine to sustain his aloof demeanour, still pushing away the unendurable horrors that he had seen and committed. But those small, inconsequential, selfish feelings overwhelmed him - he was disgraced, dishomed, exiled. Those who he had tried so long to ignore his feelings for or theirs for him, finally didn't, couldn't, care about him. The hate filled stares from the Bajorans began to hit their mark, piercing the barrier Elim had created around himself. The damn was broken, the monstrous feelings gushed in. 

But still Elim Garak had to survive, his inflated sense of self-importance along with a severe fear of failing ensured this. The wire implant was his savour. The care-free, detached, indifferent, Elim could continue. Then the pain came and it had to be turned off. Asking Dr Bashir to involve Tain (though in such a way that the good doctor thought he had thought of it) was a strange experience. Invoking the person that had said he was dead to; it was a desperate move. He wanted to live but he had also hoped for death. Death would had been an escape and yer he was still a proud man, dying of complications of what was essentially drug abuse was not an honourable way to go. 

So he lived. He made new plans to help Cardassia. He kept to his promises to Dr Bashir to not turn the implant on again and to speak to a councillor. Julian had 'pulled a few strings' as humans say and got Councillor Dianna Troi to visit the station just for him. He felt everything was too patronising, too forgiving, too 'Federation'. He was not some sad,haunted soul. He was and would always be an agent of the Obsidian Order, son of the great Enabran Tain and he would someday return to Cardassia. 

He had to hope. Hope and block out everything else - push back when the walls started coming in, wash his hands when the blood appeared, close his eyes when the bodies walked. So day after day he put on a smile, concentrated on his tailoring and amused himself with books and lunches with Julian. He used old codes to override the safety controls on the replicater in his quarters and he repicated opiates and the like. He binged on Delavian chocolates and forced his hand down his throat to vomit. Most food tastes the same coming up but something happens to chocolate that causes the beautiful taste to turn sour, burning his oesophagus. Distractions from the memories, from the dark desires. 

So today, like any other, he got up with his alarm, showered and dressed. He met Odo in the replimat for breakfast. They have a old relationship, neither party would use the word 'friend' but the did enjoy each others company and conversation. He went to his shop, took a handful of pills to numb his brain and make the time pass quicker as dull customers milled about. Lunch with Julian was actually, truly enjoyable. But always ended in disappointment when the doctor didn't respond to his advances. A violent purge relieved him of this feeling. Then it was back to his shop. Back to being plain,simple, Garak.


End file.
